


We're Strange Allies with Warring Hearts

by hrkkitulikijehuar



Series: Never Sigh for a Better World [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Slow Burn, mental illness and neurodiversity are persecuted, uther is a terrible parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:13:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrkkitulikijehuar/pseuds/hrkkitulikijehuar
Summary: In modern day Albion, the Last King died over 75 years ago but the constitutional government caries on. Uther Pendragon is the powerful Duke of Somerset, and he has a vendetta he pursues through his position as Minister of Public Safety. After Camelot University was closed due to massive damage sustained in an anti-Public Safety riot, Uther's son Arthur and his ward Morgana attend different prestigious universities while Gwen chooses a small university closer to her hometown and Merlin gives up on higher education all together.All four of them will finally have to answer the question: Which side are you on?





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. in terms of keeping track of time I'm using “AFC” or “After the Fall of Camelot” as a reference point so that's what that means when you encounter that  
> 2\. And now for something completely different!...at least in terms of format. Part 3 is very different than parts 1 and 2, and almost certainly part 4. It's going to move faster and cover more time, as well as handle the POVs a little differently. If you hate the change, at least part 4 will not be done the same way as part 3.   
> 3\. so up til this point I've been doing a season per part in a way that might make you assume there would ultimately be 5 parts and possibly that the autism reveal would come at the very end like the show...it looks more like 4 real story parts with a possible fluffy epilogue instead a full part 5. No promises on that but I do promise the reveal will not wait til the last couple of chapters. I will really deal with that.

_**June, AFC** _

-Merlin-

 

Ealdor was an island in Canterbury. The town was also called Ealdor since it was the only thing on it and like the island, it was small. Merlin lamented the lack of rivers on such small islands. But he was glad to return home, to see all the familiar things and most of all, of course, to see his mother.

Merlin's fate hung heavily over them, however. He could never stay in Ealdor, it had been miracle he'd made it as far as he had in a small town where everyone knew everyone else and everything about them. If he stayed, sooner or later, someone would report him—or just let slip the wrong thing at the wrong time to some one else who would. Gaius, having relocated himself to the Lowlands to live out his retirement quietly had offered Merlin a room—Redcliff was not a large city, but it dwarfed Ealdor, and, the Lowlands were considered remote country. What was more, as his mother kept stressing, it was much closer to the Continent (which, Merlin still might need to flee to someday). She had gone so far as to offer to move there with him, or anywhere he wanted to go.

Merlin had balked at all of it. The idea of moving again, of going somewhere new so soon after the disaster that was his university career made him curl in on himself. But far worse was the thought of his home no longer being his home. If his mother sold their house he was certain he would come apart at the seams and everything would spill out him leaving him shriveled, useless, broken. It was one thing to know he could never truly return home to stay, it was quite another to imagine home would no longer exist. He knew it wasn't supposed to work that way—he knew people moved all the time and that home was found in people and love rather than buildings and trees and gardens. But he couldn't help it. He'd lost too much of himself in the last year to be reasonable.

“Merlin, I don't want to pressure you. I know you've been through so much and I want to remind you how proud I am of you.” His mother had said, “And we don't have to make any decisions right away, you deserve a summer holiday. But I want you safe. You're my son, my life. Albion has never been safe for us. I was too afraid to leave when you were a child, but after hearing about the Inquisitors on the news and then seeing the flames...Merlin, I am more afraid of losing you than anything in the world.”

“Mum...” Merlin swallowed hard. “Will you tell me about...about...my father?”

He'd only asked once before, when he was seven years old. She'd gone very strange, such a complicated combination of emotions that young Merlin hadn't understood any of it, except that it frightened him. She'd told him that his father had left before she'd known she was pregnant and that she didn't want to talk about him and Merlin would never meet him so there was no use being curious.

Hunith sat down at their small kitchen table, which had view out a large window to the sea.

“Yes, it's time,” she said, more to herself than to Merlin.

Merlin sat down too.

“I met him at university. He was like you Merlin, though I didn't know at first. I just knew he could make even the dullest things sound amazing if he was interested in them. I had a bit of a crush on him, but he was in his final year when I started and we were never more than acquaintances while we were there. Later though, some mutual friends put us back in touch and we exchanged a few letters. But then...he stopped writing for months. I thought he'd forgotten about me or gotten bored. I'd moved back home by then and just started at the hospital. Then, more than a year after the last letter, he showed up on my doorstep. We...never talked about it, about why he was there. But the timing was so coincidental. The first laws had been passed about banning certain people from certain jobs. I knew he was different, and I knew he was only there to lay low for awhile but...we were young, we'd always gotten along, and...”

Merlin blushed and looked at the table. Hunith took a deep breath and carried on,

“Then he left. He did ask me to go with him, but it wasn't a serious offer—he knew he would be on the run, knew that wasn't any kind of life to offer me. And I loved him Merlin, I did, but...well, it was new and it was too big of a decision. So I told him I would I stay and wait for him. I always hoped he'd come back one day, that things would blow over...but they only got worse and then...I found I was pregnant just three days after I read that he'd been arrested. That was before it was called Mental Defects, and before Care Facilities. The paper just reported he'd been taken to a special prison for the criminally insane for his involvement with the protests. I've always suspected he was one of their leaders, he never said, but...it was just the way he was at university, he wasn't at ease in most social situations but when he was passionate about something he could be very moving and he was very outspoken. I don't know if he's still alive or not, but I do know he's never been released.”

Merlin blinked back tears. It was more his mother's voice than anything else; he could never stand to hear her cry.

“I moved as soon as I knew I was pregnant. I was so afraid someone would find out, so afraid what that would mean for my baby. So I moved here, somewhere remote where no one would know me or have any idea who the father of my child was. I didn't know who you would turn out to be, if you would be like him or like me, but I knew either way it would be dangerous with the way the Duke of Somerset carried on. I knew they'd always be watching you. So I gave you my name and told my parents I didn't know who the father was, that I'd met him at a bar and couldn't remember his name. They were scandalized enough to let me disown myself.

“His name was Balinor,” she said softly. “And you are the best thing that ever happened to me, Merlin. Always remember that.”

 

_**July, AFC** _

-Morgana-

 

Living with Uther after her declaration that she would be attending a public university might have been difficult—if he'd been there. Nothing Morgana or Arthur had ever done had been able to keep him long away from the capital. The time after Arthur's near death had been the record, but with the fallout from the Fall of Camelot to deal with, no one expected him to remain in Pendragon Castle and he did not disappoint.

Living with Arthur after her declaration that she would be attending public university might have been awkward—if he'd been there. He'd been studying for placement exams and even traveling to Joyus Gard to take a few, as well as, of all things, brushing up on his tennis. Apparently he had decided to join a tennis club next term as part of his efforts to take Uther's words about university to heart.

Morgana enjoyed the solitude.

 

**To Arthur:**

have you heard from Merlin yet?

 

**From Arthur:**

No.

 

**To Gwen** :

are you enjoying cohabitation?

 

**From Gwen** :

it's very weird! mostly I think it's because it's my house, not like an apartment

 

**From Gwen** :

but there's also the whole thing where now we get to learn all of the embarrassing completely unromantic things about each other

 

**From Gwen** :

which is also extremely weird since we've never actually been on a date –we've skipped straight to staying in for movie night

 

**To Gwen** :

but he's still Lancelot?

 

**From Gwen** :

yes, he's not turned out to be an ogre or anything. he's still sweet and sensible. he just leaves the seat up.

 

**To Gwen** :

...another reason I will never date anyone ever

 

**From Gwen** :

not even if you both had your own, separate mansions?

 

**To Gwen** :

perhaps.

 

 

The only thing Morgana could do toward contacting Morgause was to happily proclaim on social media that she was attending Queen's College. She and Morgause had never been able to follow one another or exchange mobile numbers, but, if Morgause knew where she would be, perhaps she would find a way as she had done before.

 

_**August, AFC** _

-Merlin-

 

Merlin liked Gaius' bookshop. Apparently it had always Gauis' retirement plan to own a small bookshop where he could sell the very best of the uncensored books about mental defects—among plenty of other strange topics so as not to draw too much attention. He was happy to have Merlin come and stay with him.

Redcliff wasn't a big city but it was on the coast and did a fair amount of tourism trade in the summers. Coming in at the end of the season was a bad time for job hunting even if Merlin could have managed it. As it was, working for Gaius was a kind if transitional therapy.

“Expedited transitional therapy,” Gaius stressed. “It's one thing for me to run this place as an old man. Not only are people going to find it less strange, but even if someone does turn me in for being an eccentric intellectual who sells books that only just skate by the censors, I've had my life of hiding. I've lived, I've taught, and there are only so many more years left to me and only so much they could do to me. But you, Merlin, you must master what skills I can teach you and look for work more suited to a younger person. You'll need to make friends—young friends.”

Not much was more suspicious than a nineteen year old boy not in uni who's only friend was his elderly 'uncle'. Nothing except the truth, of course. That Merlin had come to look for work and help out his elderly uncle was their cover story. There weren't any jobs in Ealdor, though going all the way to Redcliff would have been a bit odd without needing to help look after Uncle Gaius as he settled into his retirement. The story worked, more or less.

Gaius' shop really wasn't big or successful enough for him to employ anyone, but having Merlin mind it sometimes, especially during the time Merlin was 'looking for real work', gave Gaius some time to himself, as well as the time to do ordering and chat with some of the odd suppliers of the rarer books.

Merlin didn't even mind most of the time—hardly anyone ever came in, for one thing. He knew that was actually bad, both for Gaius and his social practice, but any time he had to talk to strangers it was hard not to think he'd made a terrible mistake. He was still recovering—he would probably be still recovering for the rest of his life. It was both harder and more important that he blend in. The pressure was mounting, just like it was on the rest of the country. There hadn't been any riots since Camelot, but there had started to be murders. Suspected defectives, Care facility workers, suspected sympathizers, a clerk at the OMP...nothing large scale but still quite alarming.

Merlin had strategies though, for trying to cope. And while he was still perfecting them, he clung to the desperate hope that removing the stress of classes and Pendragons had to count for something.

 

Merlin was contorted slightly when he heard the bell on the door. Of course. No one had come in for more than an hour but when Merlin had dropped his pen and it had rolled under a shelf near the desk so that Merlin had to crawl around under the desk and twist to reach it, obviously, that was the moment someone would come in.

“Just a mo!” he called as his fingers finally closed around the errant writing utensil.

When he finally scrambled up out from under the desk and hauled himself onto his feet, he found himself looking at a bemused man who had to be under thirty.

“Are you lost?” Merlin asked. The bookshop had a decidedly older, less fashionably dressed, and less...well ‘underwear model’ was the only thing that popped into his head to describe the man. That made him blush slightly, and to be fair, he suspected that the man might also do commercials for hair products. He had very nice hair.

“Nah, I saw the sign and decided to find out what sort of nefarious goings on were to be found in a place called 'Dark Chest of Wonders', it's lucky you have those window displays or I'd have guessed it was a sex shop,” the man sounded highly amused.

“Um, no. The name came with the business. My uncle said he wasn't clever enough to come up with a name for his retirement bookshop so he went looking for one with a name he liked. That's how we ended up in Redcliff.”

“You're from the Midlands, someplace rural?”

“The accent?” Merlin wondered, it was really not that bad. It wasn't like he was from the North.

“Just a bit.”

“Can't place yours, are you local?”

“Nah, I'm from everywhere.”

At that, Merlin had exhausted his shop-boy scripts, all except: 'Can I help you find anything?'

So, that was what Merlin said next.

The man laughed.

“I'm Gwaine,” he said starting to glance around the shelves. “I think I'm just looking, unless you want to recommend something?”

Merlin could not think what on earth he might recommend to Gwaine so he shook his head. Gwaine chuckled again and moved off to peer around the shelves. Merlin let out a breath, so far so good it seemed, despite Being being unexpected.

He surreptitiously watched Gwaine make his way around the cramped shop, while going back to doodling in his notebook. He was always aware of anyone who stopped in front of Gaius' collection of  _ almost _ informative and  _ slightly _ controversial books on mental defects, but, far more telling according to Gaius was people who selected titles from the section just to the left. Those were the books about modern practices on the continent—such things as banning asylums and other relatives of Care Facilities. Gwaine looked at both and spent a good deal more time in front of them than the average browser. That was either good, or very bad.

“Quite a collection you have here,” Gwaine said conversationally. “You help your uncle pick out books at all?”

“Um, no? I mean, it's sort of his baby. I'm only here to help. And mostly just until I find a job. Um, a real one. This place doesn't need me.”

“Mmm, well we're winding down tourist season but I happen to know Dottie has a hell of a time finding people for the breakfast shifts once the kids go back to school and uni. So, think about asking at the Rising Sun—down Riverside drive—in a week or two. There probably won't be much, we don't need too many hands once the summer people go but none of the kids, or me for instance, want to work early.” Gwaine said as he absently moved along to the section on folklore.

 

**From Gwen** :

How's Redcliff treating you?

 

**To Gwen** :

fine, hows the dorset uni?

 

**From Gwen** :

small! I thought there'd be more online classes....I thought there'd be more classes period

 

**From Gwen** :

but it makes a nice change, despite that

 

**To Gwen:**

good to hear.

 

**From Morgana** :

are you bored of fish yet?

 

**To Morgana** :

no.

 

_**September, AFC** _

-Morgana-

 

Morgana's alarm went off at 9:30. One of the wonderful things about being in her third year at uni was the lack of early classes. She stretched, luxuriating in the feel of her knit cotton sheets. It was one of the many changes she had made. High thread count woven cotton was all very well for some, but Morgana found knit sheets were far superior.

She got out of bed, made it carefully, and placed her bear as if he were tucked in for his turn in the bed. Then she put on her fluffy slippers and crossed the few steps to her desk to check facebook and the news.

A new friend request from someone in her Information Theory class gave her pause. For the most part Morgana had been reveling in her anonymity and new conviction to avoid social demands like new friends. She had Morgause for actual emotional support and she had Uther to con into telling her things, Arthur and Gwen to maintain appearances with, and Merlin to try to crack open and bring back into the fold. Not only was that combination adequate social interaction for her tastes but it was also important, and, quite taxing enough. However, part of her gambit with Uther was the delicate balancing act of appearing to be exactly what he expected as well as unquestionably mentally sound.

Morgause pointed out that, from what Morgana had told her, Uther had always been eager to forgive her. It was useful. She had to be careful, had to seem to be coming around slowly—though the events of the previous year gave her an excellent springboard for she had been threatened multiple times. And he so wanted her on his side it was easy to make him think she might be finally accepting his way of thinking. That combined with the fact that he'd never noticed any of her autistic traits previously was not as comforting as it perhaps should have been. The stress of the last year, on top of the sustained unconscious effort she'd been putting in her whole life to appear 'normal', had chipped away at some of her well practiced ability to mask. It had also given her a great deal of anxiety symptoms to try to hide as well.

After sighing and accepting the request, she went and sat on her bed to practice her breathing exercises and several grounding techniques. Daily practice was a routine which Merlin had explained was useful to autistic people, and, it meant that she was more prepared when out in public to put such strategies into play instead of simply panicking.

Then she dressed to go down to the dining hall for breakfast. Like the knit sheets, Morgana had delighted in changing her wardrobe to be more sensory friendly. She'd had always hated shopping. She had tried, as an adolescent, to do more things for herself rather than let Uther's staff handle matters that she was capable of. Shopping, though, had been one of her indulgences with regards to that. She had met with the Pendragon stylist every so often to convey her preferences and have her measurements taken and then let the man decide how to spend her clothing allowance and manage procuring the garments. There were fittings of course, with the tailor, but for the most part clothes just appeared in her closet.

Now she knew that her distaste for the whole process of clothing procurement from shopping through the tailoring was mostly sensory related. She'd learned the things to say so the social aspects were not too much trouble anymore, but shopping was noisy and smelly and bright and full of a minefield of unknown textures.

Of course, the clothing that had appeared in Morgana's closet had not been chosen by her so despite her request for pleasant feeling fabrics and nothing too tight, the result was never actually comfortable for her. She hadn't known, really, which she had initially found strange. Merlin had just shrugged and told her that she'd spent her whole life being taught to ignore her own senses in favor of what 'everyone else' said about sensory input.

“If you said, 'this shirt feels bad' someone probably told you 'no, it's soft'. And if you said 'the music is too loud' someone may have said 'no, it's on a low setting' and so on. Maybe not always that direct or explicitly, also just stuff like 'this painting is exquisite, look at the use of color' while what you were seeing was overwhelming chaos and made your stomach clench up. You learned that your own reactions were inappropriate or wrong.

“For the big stuff, the stuff that really hurts you, you were probably at least aware of the mismatch but for the more minor stuff, things that were more irritating or uncomfortable, you don't even always realize anymore because you knew what everyone said about that input. Now you know you're different and are starting to go through your backlog of 'my experience doesn't match what everyone else says' and finding out that there's all this stuff where your body and mind were trying to tell you things but you've been stamping that down, ignoring it. In some ways, that kept you safe but it also led to you ultimately being eroded by the steady stream of things you didn't even know were a problem. So you have to pay attention to that stuff now and come up with workarounds and coping strategies. Otherwise...”

Otherwise she'd crack like an egg and get carted away to Care. When it came to clothing, the strategy had been for Morgause to take her shopping. With short trips and planning, they'd managed for Morgana to choose only things that actually felt nice, or, occasionally, that at least were the least objectionable option. It made a difference, in the end, not being wrapped up in things that nearly made her skin crawl.

-Merlin-

 

“Do you think I'm ready?” Merlin asked, managing not to tap even his feet.

“I don't know,” Gaius sighed. “It's a precarious position you find yourself in. I would say only you can answer that question, but I understand all too well that perhaps even you cannot.”

While honest, that answer was not helpful. Merlin very much did not want to make this decision himself. To try to seek employment elsewhere too soon could be as disastrous as staying in the shelter of the bookshop too long.

“I suppose...I mean, looking around isn't a commitment...so if I try and the interviews are too stressful I can back off and wait a bit?”

“That seems as sound a plan as any. And you may have a good deal of difficulty finding anyone to hire you. It's the end of the busy season here.”

“And I have no real experience or education.” There was no getting around that.

Merlin remembered what that man, Gwaine, had said about a place called the Rising Sun. Most likely they'd filled any positions by now since the school and uni kids would have gone back at the end of August, and he doubted he could manage to wait tables, but he could ask if they needed a dishwasher, he supposed. He did think he could do that, and, in the off season it would be less stressful while he got his bearings...if they were hiring. Still it was a place to start.

 

 

-Morgana-

 

**From Gwen:**

queen’s sounds nice, busier than here

 

**From Gwen:**

but I like the quiet for myself

 

**To Gwen:**

I can imagine how it might be restful, but I like watching things speed by like I'm not important

 

**From Gwen:**

I hope the boys are alright.

 

**From Gwen:**

Arthur sounds busy and Merlin seems...

 

**From Gwen:**

...distant.

 

**To Gwen:**

right on both counts, I do worry.

 

**From Gwen:**

I'm sure we'll all settle in soon, it was one hell of year.

 

**To Gwen:**

too true.

 

_**October, AFC** _

-Morgana-

 

“He didn't have much new to say—he didn't even mention the Patterington vote, he mostly was just in a bluster about the fact that old Kilgarrah has been spotted again but no one has been able to catch him.” Morgana sipped her cocoa and then adjusted her mother's bracelet.

Morgause smirked, “That old coot is useful for something after all, it seems.”

“Well, and unless you can be in two places at once, dear sister, someone must have been in the North to have made sure that video clip of little Maisie got out as fast as possible. And that was where Kilgarrah was last seen, according to Uther.”

“Oh that was him alright. And I wouldn't be surprised if he set up the whole thing just so it could be filmed. Mind you, none of us can make Public Safety behave that way...just make sure we're around to film it.”

“And to organize her rescue, I hope.”

“Mmmm, not Kilgharrah's style. Leave that to the Druids. They don't have the stomach for what really needs to be done, but, they are useful. They've been growing just bold enough to pull off the odd rescue these days. The problem is, you simply can't smuggle everyone to the continent. That's neither a solution or practically feasible. So, for a high profile case like Maise...they might manage to get her out. But mostly they'll carry on trying to help hide people before they're identified and get them what support they need to stay hidden. It is we who must forge the path to freedom.”

“Yes,” Morgana frowned. “I just wish I had more to offer toward that but Uther seems almost...happy--which I assure you is quite unnerving--to have me around more and...sympathetic. But even when I mentioned I was thinking of taking that law course, he seems to be operating under the idea that if he steers clear of politics most of the time it'll keep us close. I've begun to think I need to be less direct. He and Arthur don't talk, but what Uther does say to him might be of more use to us.”

“And how is the Earl of Edgemont enjoying Joyus Gard?” Morgause set down her empty coffee container next to her on the bench and glanced around the park.

“About as much as I’m enjoying my chats with Uther, actually. He’s changed. When he was a boy he always tried to please Uther--he really did, but there’s always been something holding him back. Apart from how ridiculous Uther’s standards are, I mean. He was just too..I don’t think ‘good’ is quite the right term, but something like that. He still is but he’s managed to clamp down on it in a way be never has been before. He goes through all the motions but there’s no life in him. Even his self-destructive streaks always seemed to have a reckless refusal in them--refusal to give in to something. He has given in now.  I blame Merlin, I think he broke Arthur’s heart. I’m not sure Arthur would even notice if I started asking about Uther’s plans.”

“Still no hope of getting him on our side then.” Morgause sounded passingly disappointed.

“None. I've been trying to reach out to Merlin, I know he could fix this if he wanted to. But he's still barely answering me or Gwen. It's deliberate, I know him. He's trying to pull away.”

“Not everyone has the courage to do the right thing, not everyone is as brave as you are.”

Morgana tried to let the praise warm her, but she didn't think lack of courage was actually Merlin's problem. It was something else. Something during the Fall or just before changed things for Merlin, and Morgana simply didn't know what. She had to squash down the self-recriminations—if only she'd actually spent more time with him instead of just saying she was she might know what that was, and if only she'd told him about Morgause and the plan he wouldn't have called in and ruined things. But that was the past, and as Morgause told her after it all: there was no changing the past only forging the future.

**From Arthur:**

Stop pestering me about your boyfriend, Morgana. Just talk to him.

 

Morgana's mouth fell open at such an extraordinary message. The use of her name indicated the text was not intended for someone else but what on earth was he talking about? She'd only asked him if he'd heard from Merlin yet.

She frowned at the screen. It seemed to imply that Arthur thought Merlin and Morgana were dating. After the initial shock at something so ridiculous from her point of view, she did suppose that from Arthur's, she and Merlin had spent an awful lot of time together last semester. Could Arthur really think...

 

**To Arthur:**

what are you talking about? It's never been like that with Merlin.

 

She needed a way to explain things. Clearly this was part of the problem between Merlin and Arthur. She bit her lip trying to figure out how she could admit that she hadn't been with Merlin all those times she'd actually been meeting with Morgause without actually telling him the truth.

 

**To Arthur:**

if this is about all that time we spent together, we weren't, really, not most of them.

 

**To Arthur:**

after everything, I was struggling a bit to cope with my classes and duties and being kidnapped and I mostly just needed to be alone to concentrate. I didn't want to worry Gwen, or you, and Merlin understands needing time to oneself so he agreed to let me say I was with him.

 

**To Arthur:**

I let him say he was with me if he needed some time, too. We didn't want anyone to fuss.

 

**To Arthur:**

I suppose he's nice enough, but you know I don't have much use for romance or sex.

 

**To Arthur:**

I keep asking if you've talked to him because I'm worried you're being idiots again like in the beginning when you both thought you didn't like each other.

 

**To Arthur** :

he doesn't say much, but I do talk to Merlin. He seems to be doing well enough off in his obscure spot by the sea.

 

**To Arthur** :

just in case you were wondering.

 

Arthur took awhile to reply. Morgana mused that the Vivian nonsense might have had it's roots in Arthur's assumption as well. He'd drunkenly confessed feelings for Merlin, and then the next day started sleeping with Vivian. At the time she'd assumed he'd done it either because he regretted telling Merlin (if he even remembered it) or because when he sobered up he remembered all those lectures his father had given him and panicked into grabbing the first female he could think of. Now she wondered if it might also have to do with Merlin's manner of reply to the confession. Merlin had betrayed the hopes of his kind, possibly put people's lives in danger, just to make Arthur feel better. However, Arthur had no idea, and couldn't. So perhaps he had felt rejected, and, wallowing in his rejection decided that he'd made an even greater ass of himself by hitting on Morgana's boyfriend. He'd started dating Vivian as a distraction or other deflection, perhaps. Or maybe it was some degree of all of the above.

She sighed. Disentangling the Arthur/Merlin issue was becoming infinitely harder than she'd hoped it would be.

 

**From Arthur:**

Sorry I misunderstood...though it serves you right for lying.

 

**From Arthur:**

Do stop pestering me about him though, alright? You can't fix everything.

 

_**November, AFC** _

-Merlin-

 

“Oi, Sweet Corn, table eight is ready for you.” Gwaine said snapping a towel at Merlin's rear.

“Shut it, Luscious Locks,” Merlin grumbled trying to dodge the towel.

Gwaine grinned and went back to polishing the top of the bar. Merlin narrowly missed Mrs. Avery who was carrying a tray with what looked like seven plates over toward table six. Merlin cleared table eight and let the hostess know it was ready before scuttling back behind the bar with Gwaine.

“So, Merlin, old buddy old pal--”

“No.”

“I need a wingman.”

“You need an intervention.” Merlin huffed.

“We  _ both _ do.”

“There's nothing wrong with staying in.”

“There's nothing wrong with going out.”

Merlin snorted and Gwaine grinned. It was a familiar argument. Gwaine liked the nightlife and Merlin liked not having a meltdown in the middle of a club and getting hauled off to Care. Not that Gwaine knew that. He just knew Merlin refused to go out with him anywhere Gwaine classified as 'fun'.

Gwaine's definition of fun always sounded like Merlin wouldn't be the only one arrested if he went along. Even if only half the stories Gwaine told were true, it was a wonder he didn’t have community service for forty years. His tales always seemed to involve at least one act of public indecency, intoxication, or minor vandalism. Also sex.  _ Lots _ of sex.

Gwaine protested too much, however. When he did go out with Merlin to such dull places as the cinema, plays in the park, or that one time they went to the museum, Merlin could tell Gwaine enjoyed basically anything so long as another willing human was involved. Gwaine's real thing, in the end, seemed to be that he needed almost constant company.

“Tell you what,” Gwaine scrutinized Merlin's face. “What if we compromise?”

Merlin snorted again. Gwaine's idea of a compromises were usually as bad as his normal plans.

“It'll be a small gathering, no big crowds, I know how you hate those.”

“Mmmhmm, and what will we be doing with this 'small gathering'?” Merlin did air quotes around the the size of the group.

“Pole dancing class.”

Merlin just stared at Gwaine's shirt.

“Bank robbery? Haven't done that in awhile, or hmmm, what about yoga retreat? You look bendy.”

“What would you do at a yoga retreat?” Merlin barely kept from laughing out loud.

“Seduce every single one of the instructors, obviously.”

“Of course,” Merlin sighed.

“No, I really do have a compromise, see, I have tickets to the aquarium. And it will be a small group, just you, me, a few people I know.”

“Numbers, Gwaine.”

“Fine, say...six including you.”

The problem was, in order for Merlin to avoid suspicion he needed to seem like he had nothing to hide. It was one thing to not go clubbing with Gwaine, but it was another to be thought unsociable or a loner. Going out with Gwaine sometimes was part of how Merlin had managed to keep anyone from noticing they should turn him in to Public Safety. He was nineteen. Normal nineteen-year-olds went places with their friends. And this  _ was _ a decent compromise.

“When?” Merlin said flatly.

“Saturday at noon, nice and safe for baby Merlin.”

 

Since Gwaine had said ‘six’, Merlin had mentally prepared himself to be content with anything less than ten. He was thus not at all upset to find out there were eight of them all together and that Gwaine had even introduced to him to a few of them before. He recognized some of the voices, and in the case of one girl, her runners (she’d painted them herself). 

He didn't have to talk much as he dodged parents with strollers and small children shrieking while pointing ( _ weekends _ ). That was a plus. He was focusing on the pluses: it really was a small gathering by Gwaine's standards, the aquarium didn't have any flashing lights or loud music and no one was trying to touch him, he'd been introduced to a few of the people in the group before hand, the aquarium had water and fascinating creatures that lived in water…

After a half an hour, Merlin slipped in close to Gwaine to explain he needed the loo. He knew Gwaine well enough to insert what he might have said if it hadn't been noisy and Gwaine hadn't been kind enough not argue with him in front of strangers: 'you can't live your whole life hiding in the toilets!'

The doors to the bathrooms were in an odd little room near the stairs. There was a fish tank set into the wall opposite the doors and some seating around the other walls. The tank seemed not to be any kind of exhibit, just something for people waiting outside the bathrooms to look at. Merlin sat down. The room was dim, and he could still hear all the noises from the busy crowd, but they were a little muffled. He focused on breathing for a little awhile then paid more attention to the fish not deemed interesting enough to have a plaque explaining what they were. It was nice to watch them swim about.

“Hey,” Ben leaned against the door frame, glancing down at Merlin. Ben was one of the people Gwaine had not brought along before. Merlin didn't look at people much, but he did his best to during introductions because first impressions were important to blending in. His impression of Ben had been a sort of star-spangled glory. Merlin didn’t find people attractive in person quite the way others seemed to, but that didn’t mean he did not find people attractive. Or that he wouldn’t quite like a picture of Ben to look over in great detail. He had brown hair and honey colored eyes with pale skin decorated with freckles and moles in a mesmerizing way.

“Um, hi?” Merlin blinked up at him, wary.

“Bored? Gwaine says these aren't really your thing.” Ben walked over and sat down next to him.

“More tired,” Merlin felt strange, he wasn't panicking or afraid but he couldn't seem to think. It was more than being overwhelmed, it was something else, something about Ben. Possibly it was his long, graceful fingers, or the fact that his socks didn't match. 

“Mmm,” Ben nodded and then they sat in silence.

Merlin had met very few people who were comfortable with this sort of silence. Usually people who didn't know each other were awkward when the conversation fell away but Ben wasn't. He was quiet, but not still, naturally sitting with Merlin almost as though they were both alone. His mind was clearly on his own interests, letting Merlin's mind do the same—no pressure to talk or to perform. It wasn't quite as restful as being truly alone but it was a novel experience for Merlin.

Eventually, Gwaine poked his head in to say they were all going to the next level to see the staff put someone in a shark cage and lower them into the tank. It was one of the events the aquarium did to promote better understanding and less fear of the sharks. Gwaine didn't bother them to come along though, which Merlin was grateful for, if also surprised by.

“I'm mentally defective, you know.” Ben startled Merlin as much with his voice as with what he said. Merlin froze. He might have guessed, eventually, if they got to know each other but not after one meeting mostly in company. He hadn't been sure about Morgana for ages.

“Should you just...tell people that?” Merlin asked cautiously. He couldn't see how Ben had gotten along this far if he blurted it out to virtual strangers.

Ben chuckled, “Well no, not if I were covert, but I'm registered and monitored. The OMP already knows  _ all _ about me. For the best, since part of my mental defect package includes being impulsive. So yeah, if I were hiding, I'd last about three days. But I'm not legally allowed to hide it.”

“Oh, you're...oh.” Merlin had never met anyone who'd been deemed defective but 'safe'.

“I got Gwaine the tickets. I work here. I don't actually get the employee discount, of course, but I brought Gwaine along to meet my manager once, and everyone loves Gwaine so he let me have it just this once, since Gwaine was coming.”

Ben was a custodian—a heavily monitored custodian. He was probably only allowed to clean the main floors and bathrooms, not the areas behind the tanks or anywhere near the animals. There really weren't many jobs deemed suitable for the mentally defective and they nearly all came down to cleaning or garbage disposal.

“Thanks then,” Merlin replied. “I like it here.”

“Me too, I am lucky to hang out here mopping after hours without the crowds, just me and the peace.”

Merlin had never considered that anyone might be happy living the restricted existence allowed by the OMP for someone like Ben.

“It's not limiting...to be...um?”

“Oh hell yes. Do you have any idea how good I have it right now? Seriously, I put one toe out of line—or someone says I have, and it's all over. Plus, they can reassign me to some random office building or even decide I have to move across the country and I have to be grateful. But for this moment I have a pretty sweet gig and I try to enjoy it, you know?”

Merlin remembered a fleeting quiet moment by one of the streams on Camelot's grounds.

“Yeah, maybe I do.”

“You're not freaking out.”

“Should I be?”

“I am legally insane.” Ben wiggled his fingers at Merlin.

Merlin snorted, “You are legally  _ tame _ .”

“Still, you ok with me?”

“I think so.”

“Awesome, cuz I want to ask you for your number.”

Merlin gave it to him.

_**December, AFC** _

-Morgana-

 

**To Merlin** :

turns out all this time I've been asking Arthur if you'd gotten around to talking to him yet he didn't even have your number, what are you playing at?

 

**To Merlin** :

I almost gave it to him since he'd like to invite you for the Solstice again but he said if you wanted him to have it you'd give it to him. I know after everything you might prefer not to come but you two need to work things out.

 

**To Merlin** :

I know you care, remember.

 

**To Merlin** :

anyway, I am inviting Gwen, so think about maybe at least letting me give Arthur your number even if you won't come help us pick out a tree and hang those monstrosities we made last year all over it.

 

 

**From Gwen** :

I'm so sorry, I have to work right up to Solstice day, and then after as well. I figured it would be too much fuss even if you asked me around, just for the one day so I accepted when the neighbors asked me to come for dinner on the holiday.

 

**From Gwen** :

I do have the weekend after off, so maybe we could try to get together then?

 

 

The halls screamed there silence, their isolation. Morgana had spent years in the castle and never felt it so empty and suffocatingly silent before. It hadn't been that long since she'd been back for Albion Day, and while nothing had changed since then, the place still pressed on her like it all caved in.

She gasped audibly and nearly ran to her room. She'd barely closed her door before she fell to her knees, hand stuffed in her mouth to stifle her screams. She couldn't bear it. The place, the silence, the emptiness. She had no sense of time when she got like that, when it was too much and she panicked or shutdown or had a meltdown. After awhile though, she did manage to stop screaming and carefully pull out her phone to play some music to combat her hyposensitivity to sound.

Years of loneliness and the reminder of the traumas from last Solstice could not be so easily banished, but silence, at least, had a cure.

 

 

“And here we are, alone again.” Morgana glanced around the playroom. Arthur had just wandered in, as she had, like they'd been pulled there to acknowledge the sad truth of their empty lives.

It was hard to believe that the same boy who stood there with his drawn face and quiet, deadened soul was the same one who drank poison to save her and Merlin. It was hard to believe either version capable of condemning them if he knew they were autistic. She couldn't see either truth in Arthur, though she knew them well. It was so hard to get that image of a recklessly protective, desperately defiant boy who'd die for them out of her head.

“Better this way,” Arthur murmured. “I have homework anyway.”

He turned, but paused to sigh at the room before leaving.

 

It was harder to ignore Arthur at Pendragon Castle than it had been at university. It was not that she saw much of him, it was simply that the Castle reminded her who he could when those glimpses replaced text messages. That and the fact that even though Morgana didn’t seem to processes as much from seeing people as others, the glimpses provided and even more stark contrast. When they were at university, she could tell herself that his willingness to put Uther’s wishes so above his own was just more proof that whatever bond they had shared was doomed. She was autistic, he was Uther’s son. She would fight for her people, for their rights and their lives and their freedom. He would inherit his father’s ideas and policies and powers and become her enemy.

He had been her family, but now she had her sister. Morgause who knew her and accepted her and would fight with her. Morgause who was mentally defective as well. There was blood and similarity and purpose between her and Morgause, as well as kindness. There were years of resentment and confusion between her and Arthur, that and one terrible night where he’d died for her. He had died, even if they’d revived him. She’d loved Arthur, in a small twisted away, if only because there had been no one else.

At university, there was just Morgana and Morgause, sisters. It was so much harder to remind herself that she had her family in Morgause in the castle. She didn’t love Morgause any less, faced with Arthur, but it was harder not to feel pulled between them. Morgause, and all those like them, needed Morgana to stay her course. But seeing Arthur...it was hard to deny he needed  _ someone _ to save him too.

Morgana wasn’t sure she  _ could _ save her foster brother, and she was sure she couldn’t help both her siblings. That left her with the sickening choice to help Morgause and their kind while letting Arthur, who would have died for her, drown in all Uther wanted him to be.

  
No one ever said life, or revolution, would be easy, but that still did not prepare a person for the pain and confusion of choosing between people you loved.

 

_**January, AFC** _

-Merlin-

Merlin's fingers brushed against Ben's hand and Ben tentatively interlaced them with Merlin's.

“I can't,” Ben's breath was ragged. “I can't do this if we're not honest.”

Merlin's throat was tight and his chest was heavy. Honest? Who could be honest in this world, certainly not them.

“You're something Merlin, at a guess, I'd say you're anxious, possibly traumatized, and maybe something more.”

Merlin stopped breathing, Ben knew. He knew Merlin wasn't mentally sound. Merlin shook his head, panic rising.

“I could be way off, but I'd say...autistic.” Ben's voice came like an anvil on a far away truck, heavy and destructive but so distant.

“Hey, breathe, it's ok.” Ben moved just a hair closer, clearly trying to hold himself back.

Merlin let out a shaky laugh, “How is it ok?”

“Because it's me. I know better than anyone what the very best you could hope for if anyone knew. I wouldn't have to know anything else than that to keep your secret. But I do know a bit about the other options. They make sure we know exactly what will happen to us if we don't toe the line. We defectives have to stick together, and, above all else, absolutely everything, we have to protect each other. You're safe, with me, Merlin.”

Merlin found his panic spiraling off into something else. He believed Ben. Safe. It was such a new, unexplored concept.

“I'm going to kiss you,” Merlin replied, hesitating only a moment for Ben to tell him no, to tell him to back off. But Ben just closed his eyes and Merlin tilted his head and pressed their lips together. It felt good, which Merlin hadn't expected. Desire and how his senses responded to things did not have to be on the same page. The desperate ache he had for Ben had been no guarantee—would be no guarantee. But Ben’s lips were soft, smooth, and felt like heaven against Merlin's.

“Mmm,” Ben hummed as Merlin finally let his breath out and moved away.

“I've never done that,” Merlin confessed. It was true, his first kiss had been with the mistletoe and Arthur but Arthur had kissed him and Merlin had not kissed back. That did not count. This did.

“Me either,” Ben kept his eyes closed as if still feeling the kiss or burning it into his memory.

“Do you think...?”

“Yeah, I think we can make it work. We just have to careful, listen to each other and ourselves. You have to tell me what you want and what you don't, no trying to please me when it's not good for you. Promise me that, Merlin?”

“Yeah. And you.”

“I swear it.” Ben smiled slightly, sweetly, and then kissed Merlin again.

“Say it, come on, sayyyyyy it,” Gwaine flopped on Merlin's bed. Merlin could hear the grin stretching from ear to ear in self-satisfaction.

“Fine, fine. Thank you, Gwaine, for making me go out.”

“Annnnd?” Gwaine sang.

“Thankyouforintriducingmetomynewboyfriend.”

Merlin expected Gwaine to make him repeat it, but Gwaine just cackled instead.

“See? See, Merlin? This is what happens when you have _ fun _ , you meet people. Gorgeous people you want to bang on a table or--”

“Oi!”

“--or...take up knitting with? What  _ are  _ you going to do with him? I prefer them a little more buff but even I have to admit he's a pretty. If you're ace, that's one thing, but if not...why  _ not _ bang him on a table?”

Because sex was a whole rabbit hole of sensory sensations and communication issues, for one thing. For another, Merlin thought sex on a table sounded like it would make things even more uncomfortable than they already had the potential to be.

“Look, we only met last month. I know you live in a world where a five minute acquaintance is long enough for throwing over a table, but for some of us...we like to actually get to know each other and...you know what, no. You are my best mate but I am not talking about my sex life with you Gwaine, I am not doing it.”

Gwaine pouted.

“No!” Merlin folded his arms and screwed up his face in what he hoped was mock stern. He really was glad Gwaine had introduced him to Ben. So glad that he relented just enough to grin stupidly at Gwaine.

“Ah, that's thanks enough.” Gwaine said, “I'm happy for you mate. And while I don't actually know Ben that well, I think you'll make a good pair. Seems decent to me, though you know my standards are shot all to hell.”

Merlin wasn't so sure of that. Gwaine's standards for judging if a person was 'decent enough' was if they would say they thought Public Safety was the real insanity and the Duke of Somerset was a shining example of how the peerage needed to be done away with once and for all. Those seemed to be pretty good standards to Merlin.

**From Morgana** :

congrats on the new bf, if you've moved on, let Arthur off the hook? I'm worried about him and he won't be a prat about things—not enough heart left in him for that. So just give him closure or something.

**From Gwen** :

omg you two are adorable! I hope he makes you happy!! if he breaks your heart I can look really disapproving and judgmental at him.

**To Gwen** :

breathe, Gwen

“You do know what you're getting into with me?” Ben chewed his lip. Merlin had asked Ben up to his room after their library date. “I forget stuff while I'm doing it sometimes—or just in general. I can get stuck and not be able to change tasks even if I sort of even want to, I have my own sensory issues...just to give you an idea...”

“You know I'm autistic, do you know what you're in for?”

Ben waved a hand, “Not really, but I don't have a lot of publicly reinforced insecurities about not being able to cope with other people's eccentricities. No, mine are just about people not wanting to put up with me, You'll have to tell me anything, or write it down—that's better, anything important.”

“We might need to go kind of...slow.” Merlin said quietly. “I want to...um...but I don't even know if I can.”

“Slow it is. I know I'm impulsive and impatient and get bored a lot, but I actually need to go slow too. Just...don't take the ADHD stuff personally, ok? If I get bored, it's not you, I just...do. Like, if you decide you can't do something, I'm not going to get upset  _ or _ think you don't like me, unless you tell me it's me. So, if I get bored...wait, did I say that twice?”

“We've agreed to go slow and not take anything personally while we figure the physical stuff out,” Merlin summarized.

“Awesome!” Ben still sounded a bit nervous, but he settled next to Merlin on the bed—close though not touching. “We're in this together and we're gonna get it wrong sometimes. Relationships aren't just 'one shots' to get things perfect, they're about people making a mess trying to be happy together.”

“Are you talking to me, or yourself?”

“Both. Society has done a number on us, which, I mean, it's not like it's easy for mentally sound people, just, we got the expanded pack for insecurities. So I'm terrified, but I know you are too. But you want this, and so do I, or we wouldn't be here.”

Merlin reached over and carefully took Ben's hand.

“Slow is really ok?”

“Slow is necessary. For both of us.”

_**February, AFC** _

-Merlin-

It worked best for Merlin and Ben to approach their physical encounters a bit like a series of scientific experiments. They tried to have relatively few variables and write stuff down, such as:

  * Ben found music too distracting
  * Merlin preferred dim lighting
  * Ben found kissing for more than seven seconds to be boring
  * Merlin could not stand to have another person's tongue in his mouth
  * they both liked their ears nibbled
  * Merlin's nipples were very sensitive and he usually couldn't stand to have them played with
  * Ben loved to teeth scraped over his nipples



And so on.

There were incompatibilities: Merlin needed some kind of background noise while basically any distracted Ben, so that they were forever taking it in turns to get up and turn something on or off when one of them became overwhelmed. There were opposites: Merlin loved kissing, as long as there was no tongue but Ben only liked kissing at all with tongue. Merlin needed frequent breaks to avoid getting overstimulated and Ben often wandered off or had a hard time with the interrupted action. There were also happy convergences. They both liked exploring each other with tongues, teeth, and lips. They both appreciated the others technique when doing so.

Sometimes it was frustrating. It was often embarrassing. But it was also affirming for both of them that despite fears and the long years of a world that indicated they'd never be capable of it: they could find a way.

-Morgana-

Long weekends. A joy for any university student, expect Morgana. How she loathed long weekends. Long weekends meant lunch dates with Uther. It never seemed to matter how much time she spent with him under her new job as a spy, it never got any easier to fight the conditioned responses she'd accumulated through the years. The first was to avoid the encounter entirely. Before any time she was to see Uther, despite having arranged the meetings herself now, she always seemed to get a headache or some other minor complaint that previously might have given her a reason to cancel or shorten any interaction with Uther. She'd thrown up before a ball once, as a child. Written off as a twenty-four hour stomach bug at the time, Morgana now suspected it had been her body's way of refusing to go.

Then there was the frustrated anger and fear. She feared him now in terms of his attitude toward Mental Defects and what he would do to her if he found out she was autistic but that was actually easier to overcome. That was new. The old fear, the fear of the grief-stricken child in a new home with a strict new guardian...that was habit. The long years of struggling with her grief over her father and the fact that even if she wanted to please Uther he didn't seem capable of affection. That was far harder to swallow down. It was the source of her old anger as well. The act of spying on him, of actively resisting him was enough to manage the adult anger she felt abut Uther and his policies, but the anger of the isolated, affection starved child reprimanded over and over for things she couldn't help...that was different.

The only good thing about this long weekend was that it wasn't Spring Break when she'd have to go back to Pendragon Castle--

“It all comes down to breeding, in the end,” Uther was saying.

“...Breeding? Morgana froze, finally focusing on what Uther was saying.

“We've long known Metal Defects run in families but until recently whenever I brought that up, people have been too squeamish to act on the information. Now though, finally, the others seem ready to consider what must be done. Camelot, and now all these brazen attacks on Care Facilities, have shaken enough MPs that they can finally see we must address the root issue. Well, and the economy of course plays into it, it's very expensive to run things the way we have been. Much more efficient in all ways to prevent Defectives from even being born rather than trying to contain them.”

“And what has that to do with breeding?” Morgana asked, her eyes fixed on Uther's tie. Her ears almost buzzed and felt like she had changed elevations very suddenly. He could not be suggesting what she thought he was.

“Come, Morgana, you must see. We need to keep Defectives from breeding. The ones in Care always are, of course, but there has never been anything done about the tame ones allowed to live and work among us. They have been permitted to marry and have children without restriction. And of course, all those who have known Defects in their families will be encouraged to undergo voluntary sterilization as well. That will finally put a real dent in all our problems.”

“No,” a tiny breath of horror escaped Morgana, but Uther did not hear.

“I'm glad, you know, that you're one of us.” Ben curled his fingers around Merlin's arm as they lay reading on Merlin's bed. “Like I'd have loved you anyway but I was pretty afraid when I wasn't sure at the beginning, that you'd never really know me. And I'd never be able to be sure you wouldn't change you mind about being ok with me. Plus, now I don't have to wait a year to invite you to a meeting.”

“Meeting?”

“A resistance meeting, You wanna come help us shove the entire OMP up Uther Pendragon's arse?”

Despite how serious being asked to a resistance meeting actually was, Merlin couldn't help laughing.

“You have no idea.”

“Pfft, 'course I do, luv, we all do.” Ben reached out and ruffled Merlin's hair. “There's basically four aspects. Organization, information, outreach, and action.”

“Action is the part that makes me nervous,” Merlin confessed, once again appreciating Ben's ability to just skip half the boring preliminaries and get on to the stuff Merlin wanted to know.

“That's the part that makes everyone nervous. We all know where we stand and what we have to lose. But we're closer now than we've ever been to change, and part of knowing what we have to lose is knowing we might lose it all anyway.

“I know,” sighed Merlin.

“You don't have to go, you know. There's no rule that being one of us means you have to fight. Actually the opposite, one of our rules is that we all respect our limits. We are a collection of vulnerable, abused people who've been shamed their whole lives. There's a lot we can do, and a lot that many of us are willing to sacrifice for freedom, but no one is allowed to say anything to someone who won't fight or who walks away. Like I said, we live our whole lives in shame, that's quite enough without doing it to each other as well.”

Merlin shook his head, “It's less that and more...I've seen a little bit of that action can mean. The destruction...the blood. I don't know if I can do that—don't misunderstand, I know what they do to us every day, but I'm not sure I can really  _ do _ anything violent or...”

“You don't have to,” repeated Ben softly. “And remember, I said four aspects, organization, information, and outreach come first. Nothing happens without organization, nothing useful happens without information, and nothing lasting happens without outreach. I do a lot of that, actually, since I'm able to live openly in public—or at least more so than coverts like you. I work a lot on getting people to see us as human. I know we have some hidden folks as spies around the various levels of Public Safety. And some one keeps each chapter straight, someone has to coordinate between them and communicate and all.”

Ben waved a hand around, “It's not all lightening stuff on fire and getting trampled and whatever you've seen on TV.”

Or whatever happened at Camelot. Merlin didn't talk about that. He hadn't even told Ben, though he wasn't lying about it. He said he'd been at university but quit because it was too much. That was true, and honest, and it was all Merlin could give.

It was by far the most important thing Morgana had ever imparted to the resistance about Uther, his new scheme to move toward actual genocide of her kind rather than just torture and oppression. But oh, how much she longed for the other tidbits, trivial as though they had been, there had been things that could be done but those smaller things. This...this was unmovable. Uther had the votes. The damnable bill had been written. Unless they blew up Parliament...and even Morgause couldn't manage that, not yet (and when did that become an option? For Morgana certainly felt it might be for something like this).

Morgana's mind reeled as she waited for Morgause at the little specialty coffee shop Morgana always went to after meeting with Uther. Forced sterilization for registered Defectives. 'Voluntary' sterilization for those known to have Defects in the family. Morgana had never really thought about having children herself, but that didn't matter. That decision could not be stolen from her people. Their very right to exist was being legislated away.

_**March, AFC** _

-Merlin-

Merlin wasn't formally a part of the resistance. He just tagged along with Ben to the information meetings. Ben assured him he could be only as involved as he wanted to to be and the other members seemed not to mind. They were a wary bunch, mostly made up of coverts like him, or people like Ben, and they all had too much to lose. It was terrifying at first, when he was introduced to the group. He'd never had his secret revealed to so many people before. But at the same time, he knew their secret too. There were about fifteen of them—two of which were friends of Gwaine though Ben explained they'd have to wait longer to even think about asking Gwaine to join since as far as they could tell he was neurotypical.

The Redcliff chapter was Merlin's kind of group, however, since none of them seemed the least bit interested in staging a riot of any kind. They were all like Ben, they worked on organizing information or trying to change public opinion. No one accepted the status quo, but no one was in a position to do much about it due to their complex and varied circumstances. It was a quiet, gentle introduction to the life of a revolutionary.

“And for the final piece of news...our spy close to Uther has informed us he has enough backing in parliament now to propose a new horror. They're going to put forth a bill for the mandatory sterilization of all registered Defectives not in Care—mostly likely because they've been doing that there for years as it is. There's also a whole lot of new regulations for informing family members of known Defectives on the risks of having Defective children and incentives for voluntary sterilization.”

Silence reigned for a split second, and then the room erupted.

“Bastards!”

“Knew it was coming.”

“Surprised it took this long, the soulless pigs.”

“The people won't stand for this!”

Ben's face was a grim line and he leaned closer to Merlin to say,

“This puts us full in the fire now. I'm not saying most of us won't willingly comply, we're too used to it. We're too used to doing whatever they say to survive. But this will be one of the last moves they make before the end. Just wait and see.”

“Emrys, Taliesin,” hailed one Gwaine's friends. “What do you make of this?”

“Beginning of the end, as I was saying.” Ben replied, “Well for them, I mean.”

Merlin wasn't so sure of that. Not only had the popular riots stopped after the post-Camelot crack down, but he just couldn't muster the confidence that this time would be any different than all the other times the Somerset had introduced horrifying legislation.

Morgana woke up at 9:30 and lay flat on her bed. It had been a week since the bill had been introduced in the House of Commons. Morgana wished the old, ancient gods of Queen Guinevere were real, and still there to appeal to. That the wizard Merlin had been named for could be called back to save them. That there was hope, any hope. What was the point of spying on Uther if the information she learned didn't do any good?

“I'm sorry, Morgana.”

“Why?”

“I've tried to shelter you as much as possible, but after the what you told me last time...”

“Shelter me? From what?”

“You have access to Uther.”

“Yes, thus all the spying and the fact that I warned you what he's was proposing.”

“The others think it's past time to go beyond that.”

“Stop hedging, you know I hate having to guess.”

“Uther needs to die, Morgana.”

Morgana blanched, “You don't mean...you can't...you want me to..”

“You wouldn't have to plan it yourself. And we'd not ask you to do anything dangerous like try to overpower him or anything.”

Morgana couldn't breathe. She hated Uther and she couldn't pretend things wouldn't be better if without him—better for everyone. But to murder him? To kill another person herself?

“I know, sister, it's a terrible thing to ask of you, but it's also a heroic opportunity. You'd be giving all of our kind the greatest hope they've ever had.”

“I  _ can't. _ ” Morgana croaked, “To kill...”

Arthur's prone body, Merlin pumping his chest, he died. Her father had died. Her mother. How could she cause death?

“It's alright,” Morgause reached out, letting her hand rest near Morgana's. “I'll tell them you aren't ready.”

Ready. How could she ever be ready? Uther was a monster but Aglain's words floated back to her, 'He is to be pitied...'

And Arthur. Arthur who had cut out his soul to please Uther. How could she do this to Arthur.

 

_**April, AFC** _

-Merlin-

Merlin's radio came on at 6:15. He groaned into his pillow and stretched slightly. He'd been close enough to a morning person back in school but university had somehow ruined that and now getting up for opening shifts was far from enjoyable. He did roll out of bed before the snooze timer ran out though and shut off the damn radio-alarm-clock before it start playing again.

He ran his hands through his hair and squinted around at his room. He pulled on a shirt and padded out to the small bathroom since he slept in sweat pants. He took a quick shower and then dressed in his uniform of black shirt and black pants with black socks and black shoes. Mrs. Avery wasn't very strict about what kind of clothes they wore as busers as long as it was black.

“No one expects my staff to be fancy, but you should at least be easy to identify. Do try to look pulled together if you can, of course. That's always better for business.”

He grabbed toast and tea on his way out the door—Gaius slept until 8, “There's no point in being retired and my own boss if I have to get up at the crack of dawn.”

The Rising Sun had weekday breakfast regulars and the occasional odd person who came in randomly but it never amounted to much. Mrs. Avery often covered most of the front of the house positions herself, but she did like to have at least one other person around. Most mornings it was Merlin since Gwaine had been right: no one liked working breakfasts. There were one or two other people like Merlin who were not students, but mostly the pay wasn't enough for anyone else to bother. He had been warned that everything would change in the summer when the tourists came, but Merlin was strangely not too worried about it. He'd had months now to learn the ropes in relatively low stress circumstances. It was to the point that he even planned on asking to be trained to wait tables for the next fall—if only fill in occasionally.

It would never have worked without Gaius, of course. If Merlin had had to pay rent and utilities and groceries and so on all from from his own wages, he could never have afforded to bus at the Rising Sun during the day. He'd have needed another job, possibly another two jobs, just to make ends meet. Gaius let him pay a certain amount a month toward all the bills and Merlin did nearly all the cleaning since that was hard for Gaius but that was it. It left Merlin with a bit of money to put away and to use for the occasional outings with Gwaine. As a long term career it was of course not feasible but as a place to start toward being able to work safely in the open, it was a dream come true.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?” Ben asked, his head on Merlin's chest. Ben loved to listen to Merlin's heartbeat. Merlin liked the weight of Ben on him.

“Call us Defectives so casually when you talk? We're not. We're just different.”

“I  _ know _ that,” Ben snorted, sliding off Merlin to look at him. He never minded Merlin's lack of eye contact. “I have to talk like that, remember, I'm not legally allowed to even look like I'm hiding it. So I talk that way all the time. Some of us kind of twist it around so it's like, well if being non-defective means going around torturing people then I'm glad my brain is broken. You can't really sound proud when you say it, but you can think it. I don't have the focus for that. I just talk the way I have to until the 'someday' when I can scream the truth at the top of my lungs.”

Merlin considered that but was distracted by Ben's fingers dancing along the blanket almost like he was playing piano.

“Someday I will,” Ben murmured, settling back on Merlin's chest. “And maybe someday will actually come and stop being a fairy tale we all tell ourselves to get through another day.”

“Maybe,” Merlin put a hand up to stroke Ben's hair. Mutual stimming with each other's bodies was the best thing ever.

Merlin didn't care what everyone else said about sex. This, the weight of Ben and his soft hair and knowing that Ben was getting the same thing from his heart beat, that was a level of intimacy and pleasure that no amount of sticky thrusting could ever possibly compete with. Let Neurotypical sexuals have their sex, they'd never know this bliss.

**-** Morgana **-**

To murder Uther or not to murder Uther? What an absurd question. What twenty year old girl had to seriously contemplate political assassination? Did calling it political assimilation make it any easier? No. It didn't. She hated Uther. He was a monster. She'd have hated him for the way he'd treated her and Arthur even if he hadn't also orchestrated the deaths and tortures of countless innocent people. But he had. If you hated someone, justifiably, shouldn't that make murdering them easier? Somehow it did not.

She'd already been a spy and in stories spies often had to kill people. But her life was  _ not  _ a story. She was a real person and so was Uther, as flawed and monstrous as he was, he was a person. And Arthur's father. And hadn't he tried, in his own backward and pathetic way? For both of them? Hadn't he been almost putty in her hands these last several months when he thought she might finally be able to see eye to eye with him? Hadn't that been sincere?

What was she supposed to do? Poison him? She could never do that, never try to poison someone, not after Arthur. No, not her worst enemy, who was, after all, actually Uther, so she could be certain she would not poison her worst enemy. Then what? Would Morgause tell her to stab him? To bash his skull like Gwen had had to do to Mr. Black? To inject him with something like Muirden had done to her (even if that had not been intended to be fatal)? Perhaps Morgause's people would think she could take Uther hunting and contrive to 'accidentally' shoot him. Uther didn't hunt and neither did Morgana. Not that it mattered, Morgana would never be able to stand using a weapon that made that kind of noise. No wood-chipper then.

“I'm being hysterical,” she murmured to herself, sitting on her bed in Pendragon Castle in the last days of Spring Break.

But was not hysteria, possibly, justified on occasion? Say, perhaps, when one was asked by one's sister to murder someone for the good of the country?

-Merlin-

“What's this?”

“Open it, open it!” Ben flapped his slightly too-long sleeve at Merlin. It was cute and Ben rocked back and forth on his feet in excitement.

“Alright,” Merlin tried to repress his own joy. Ben had been hinting that he had some kind of surprise for Merlin and while generally Merlin found surprises to be a lot like landmines, he actually trusted Ben not to choose anything overwhelming. Merlin carefully started opening the package, winding Ben up with his painstaking slowness.

“Argh,” Ben whined, flopping down at Merlin's feet. Merlin took pity on him and started tearing the paper quickly.

Ben beamed up at him.

Inside the box was something made out of a soft cloth, though as Merlin pulled it out it was heavier than seemed to make sense. It was long, like a scarf, mostly a light gray color but with black piping along the hem of one side, and red piping on the reverse.

“Here,” Ben held out a hand, clearly too impatient to let Merlin figure it out on his own. Merlin gave in and handed it over. Ben carefully draped it around Merlin. It was actually some kind of hood-scarf hybrid.

“The hood has headphones inside, there'll be instructions in here...yes, and this will show you how to adjust them so they're right by your ears and how to take them out for washing and stuff. But it has pockets, and it's weighted, and it's soft, and see these strings inside? Those are for fiddling with or even braiding if you're into that. You can also order these little scented packets but I didn't want to choose for you so that's on the instructions too. But the best part is from the outside it just looks like this new fashion trend from the Continent that's slowly catching on in the capital It'll be a bit before anyone one else out here has one but still, it's trendy. Oh and it's reversible!”

“Can I kiss you?” Merlin asked.

Ben laughed.

**1 AFC, May**

-Morgana-

“His Grace is occupied at the moment, I'm afraid.” Mrs. Martin frowned at Morgana. “We weren't informed you'd be arriving until Friday.”

“I do apologize for that. I'm afraid the stress of exams must have made me forget to update my schedule. One of my professors changed the exam time from what was put on the syllabus to earlier this week, so I was done yesterday.”

It was true—except the bit about it being an accident that Morgana hadn't told anyone at Pendragon castle she'd be coming home earlier. She'd done that in hopes of spying on Uther in a slightly more active manner. Not just conversations and leading questions—or listening to him tell her things that no one could do anything about. Perhaps if she went through his papers or eavesdropped on a conversation...then maybe she'd find something important enough that the others would think it more useful to keep her as a spy rather than as an assassin. She'd given in and told Morgause that she would at least let the others come up with plans but she was still desperately looking for a way out.

Morgause was sympathetic to Morgana, and seemed to genuinely worry about what might happen to Morgana if she agreed to go through with it. However, Morgause was also in a difficult position as one of the top leaders of the resistance. For nearly all of the leaders, and most of the other  members, Uther was so hated that any of them would have sacrificed themselves to take him out. The fact that Morgana might be reluctant to do so would make them suspicious and angry. They might challenge Morgause's leadership and Morgana's loyalty.

Morgana trusted her sister, but she was too aware of the world to pretend that every member of the resistance was a kindhearted revolutionary who would understand her. No, they were just people which meant some of them could be cruel or unsympathetic or judgmental or hateful. If they were convinced Morgana was a traitor to their cause in anyway...she might find herself revealed to Public Safety. Morgause swore that was unlikely but Morgana considered how she'd feel in their place. She knew she still hated Merlin sometimes for convincing Arthur that Morgause had lied about his mother. If she didn't know him, if she'd done it for someone she didn't love....well. She wouldn't turn him in, but it was easy to imagine that someone might.

Morgana talked calmly to Mrs. Martin about how things were to be collected from her dorm room the next day and excused herself for a long hot bath. That was her usual routine when she visited the Castle--first thing was usually a nice bath. But of course this time she waited until she was sure she was out of sight and earshot and then slipped down the hall to Uther's study.

She approached as silently as she could.

-Merlin-

“What did I miss?” Merlin asked as Ben entered his room. Merlin had missed the meeting for work but whenever that happened, Ben always updated him.

“Big news actually, and you're not going to like it.” Ben glanced at him, resigned.

“Action?”

“Monumental action, but, not the kind with a lot of blood or destruction, so that might help, though I doubt it.”

“What's monumental that doesn't involve a lot of blood and destruction?”

“We're going to assassinate Somerset.”

“ _ What? _ How? Ben, don't joke about...you're not.”

“No, we're serious. It's been in the words for awhile apparently but it wasn't easy getting someone close enough to him to agree to it. It's dangerous, of course, and some people felt it wouldn't help since it would just prove him right to everyone about us—if we killed him. But in the end enough people agree that removing him was more important than trying to portray ourselves as harmless. Particularly since that's complicated and infantilizing.”

“How did we get someone close to him?”

“We didn't, she was already there, it's mostly been convincing her. Apparently he has a ward, it's public record but not a lot of people know about her—everyone knows about Edgemont but the ward is about his age and she's one of us. She's been living in his house, can you imagine? But he doesn't even know.”

“Morgana?”

“Is that her name?” Ben asked, curiously.

“I...think so...but Somerset raised her.” Merlin's mind and heart raced.

“Yeah, apparently he's as bad at parenting as keeping his personal issues out of politics.”

“That's still...asking her to kill her family, basically. And just plain asking her to assassinate someone, to kill another person.”

“It's war, Merlin, you know that.” Ben blinked. He tried to be gentle with Merlin, Merlin knew, when it came to the more 'active' aspects of the resistance. Ben didn't talk about his views on it much, and Merlin had guessed it was because they wouldn’t agree. Merlin had been too afraid of how much they might disagree to actually ask.

“Uther has a son. She'd be killing his father...making him an orphan.” Merlin wasn't actually trying to argue with Ben, mostly words were just escaping as he tried to process the information.

“Where's your father, Merlin?” Ben retorted.

“That's not fair,” Merlin protested. The fact that he’d never known his father was hardly justification for Arthur losing his.

“I know, and that's the point! This is beyond unfair, it's unjust.”

“I know that! But how does this make us any better than them?”

“Why do we have to be better? Why does the burden of morality fall on us? They kill us, torture us, destroy us so tell me why we have to be better than them? Why can't we defend ourselves and live? Why is it wrong for us to fight back however we can?”

Merlin didn't have an answer. It shouldn't fall to them to be better humans in the face of murder and abuse. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that Merlin knew Arthur and Morgana and he knew it would destroy them both.

He couldn't tell Ben that, he couldn't make him understand it. And that's when Merlin knew it was over. Ben said he couldn't be with Merlin if they weren't honest and Merlin knew if he told Ben about Camelot, about Arthur and Morgana, Ben would at best not understand Merlin's feelings and at worst, he'd want to use that connection somehow. Merlin couldn't do that. He couldn't trust Ben with it, and he couldn't be honest. He could not, even after everything, risk Arthur and Morgana.

-Morgana-

She could hear Uther's voice as she leaned an ear against the door, near the keyhole. It was difficult to make out at first but she knew he was talking to someone else actually in the room with him. After a moment she was confused to discover she was almost certain he was talking to Gaius. She thought Gaius was in Redcliff with Merlin. And besides, Uther had never had Gaius around outside of his tutoring sessions when Morgana was younger, at least, as far as she’d been aware. She knew they were old friends, that was how Uther chose him as her tutor, but Uther was always too busy in government to socialize.

“I am glad to hear it. Even though he no longer associates with Arthur, I confess to a certain curiosity about him. I was concerned when Arthur mentioned he chose not continue his studies.”

“The events of the year were quite stressful. I'm sure he will continue them someday but he rather felt he needed a break from the demands of university in light of how things turned out at Camelot.”

“I suppose I cannot blame him for that. Had our own time there ended that way, I imagine it would have given us serious pause when considering what to do next.” Uther allowed, though Morgana knew he didn’t mean it. If she or Arthur had tried to take time off after Camelot, Uther would have forbidden it.

“How has Morgana been fairing?” Gaius asked.

“Very well I think, generally. I was furious of course when she elected to attend public university against my wishes, but it seems it was something she needed to do. And it  _ is _ the best public university in the country, she will still be successful, particularly if she seeks a higher degree at Joyus Gard or Tintagel. Her time there has rendered her less rebellious than previously. I confess I might have allowed her more freedom in choosing her university in the beginning if I knew what a positive effect it would have on her.”

“You have always, butted heads, shall we say.”

“Yes. She's stubborn—knows what she wants and hates to lose. Too like me in that regard I fear. It's always difficult when children are too like their parents.”

“You did raise her, I suppose.” Gaius replied cautiously, apparently as confused by Uther's words as Morgana was. He was always precise about their relationship—he never pretended she was anything other than his ward.

“Hardly,” Uther said wryly, “I have been too focused on keeping the country together to raise either of them. No...it's time I told someone. Someone should know, and I know I can trust you, Gaius. Morgana is my daughter.”

Morgana was sure she had misheard that.

“Your daughter...? But how? Gorlois was her father.”

“No. There was a time...when her mother came to stay with Ygraine and I for a period. But then, Ygraine's mother died and she went to make the arrangements. I would have gone with her, but her brothers always despised me and she bid me stay behind until the funeral as to not distress them further. It is the greatest regret of my life that I was so...weak. But Gorlois knew, though I...I never told Ygraine. I would have...I...”

Morgana ran.

-Merlin-

**To Morgana:**

Don't do it, Morgana. Don't. There has to be another way. You can't go back from this. Please, please don't do it. Call me.

  
  


-Morgana-

Hear ears rang. Confessions, omissions, truth and lies, and damned noise. She found herself standing in front of the tapestry with the Pendragon family tree on it. There was Arthur, her brother. Above him was Uther, her father and Ygraine. Ygraine who Uther had loved so much he'd destroyed anyone he could who, his twisted mind, had been associated with her death. Ygraine that he hadn't loved enough to be faithful. Ygraine who had been her mother's friend.

Uther had betrayed his wife and his best friend. And who did that make her mother? She looked down at the bracelet Morgause had given her. She'd cherished that connection but now? Now she knew her mother not only abandoned Morgause but betrayed her husband and friend. What did it make Morgana, born of such betrayals and lies? She ripped off the bracelet but couldn't let it drop.

She then saw the portraits of Uther's parents and moved in front of them. Morgause looked like their mother. Gorlois had always said that she looked somewhat like her grandmother. All her grandparents had died by the time she was two so they'd never been real to her. Staring at these dead Pendragons Morgana wondered why she'd never asked which grandmother she resembled, and what Gorlois would have said if she had. For there was her grandmother and there was her chin and her nose and her eyebrows. The woman's blonde hair and green eyes and lower cheekbones had hid the truth all the times she'd walked by the portrait, never thinking to look for herself in it. And her grandfather, there was her dark hair and blue eyes. She didn't have her father's coloring after all, no, it was this man's. Or perhaps some other relation on her mother's side. Who knew. Morgana certainly didn't.

All those lectures to Arthur about family and bloodlines, putting all that weight on him to make a respectable marriage and have many children and she'd never had the courage to ask Uther why he never remarried and had more Pendragons himself. Why did he put it all on Arthur? She had wanted to ask once she had realize how ridiculous it was. What would he have said if she had done? He'd never claimed her, never told her the truth, not even once she was grown. He never was going to, she realized.

It was just as well, for he was  _ not _ her father. She'd had a father, a real one--one who had loved her and she knew the difference. Uther was no father, not even to Arthur. Whoever had contributed that half her of DNA, Morgana knew who her real father was. Uther had raised her for half her life and he might have also been her father if he were capable of it. She could have been loved in her new home, and she could have loved in return. She could have been family whatever blood and she never had been. The truth just underlined that fact, the fact that Uther ought to have been her father too. But she would never accept that he'd been more than the man who'd put a roof over her head and paid other people to try to turn her into what he wanted.

She was no longer considering killing him. No, she was going to destroy him.

-Merlin-

“Why, though? Come on Merlin, talk to me.” Gwaine sounded exasperated, “I believe you have your reasons, and good ones, but you two were happy! You almost made me believe there was something to the whole monogamy thing. What happened?”

Merlin was about to put Gwaine off when instead he said,“I was at Camelot, Gwaine. I was a freshman at Camelot when...”

“Oh bloody hell!” Gwaine's tone went as serious as he'd ever heard it.

“It's worse than that.” Merlin swallowed hard. For once in his life he needed to tell someone, tell them about the storm locked inside him. He knew most people confided in their friends but secrecy had always been his shield. He couldn't take it anymore. He needed to explain everything to someone, to show another person the mess he was dealing with and that maybe, just maybe, he was doing the best he could and it was enough.

“Worse? Worse than having your uni blown up?”

And so Merlin told him. He started with arriving at Camelot and only left out the fact that he and Morgana were autistic. He couldn't expose Morgana, it was her secret, and his was too tied up in hers. For himself, he would have liked to tell Gwaine and he was so fed up with hiding and losing that freedom he'd had with Ben that he almost did. It wasn't lack of trust that stopped him. He trusted Gwaine. It was simply that he was otherwise pouring his soul out and it left like if he gave up that final piece everything he was would have flowed out of him and spilled over Gwaine. He needed something to keep back, something of himself to hold on to. He told Gwaine everything else though, all his feelings and even watching Freya get dragged away and right down to giving back the hoody Arthur had lent him. He just told Gwaine everything he possibly could.

When he'd finished by explaining how and why he broke up with Ben, Gwaine was silent for several long moments. Finally,

“My Da was an MP.”

“What?” Merlin croaked, startled.

“He was an MP from North Camlann—Ellis . He got elected right after it started, right when Uther first started making noises about the 'crazies' as he called them at the time but it was before any of actual laws passed. Da opposed it, all of it. But he was out voted, time and again, no one would listen to him. He started drinking around then because he could see what was happening. Then, one day, the police burst into our house. I was about six, and they searched everything. Brought him up on charges because apparently he'd been leaking government documents to the press. A week later he wrapped his car around a tree.”

“Oh gods,” Merlin whimpered. Gwaine's tone stayed flat.

“My ma's family had money so they kept it all as quiet as possible and we went to live with them. I actually have three credits short of a degree from Joyus Gard but I quit because I couldn't stand being surrounded by all those people excited to just join up. Either straight into the government or just buying into the whole system like no one else matters. I've known it was all wrong all along but I've also known one person can't do shit to fix it since I was six.

“So, I quit and ran away. But things are finally changing. And after everything you just told me...I get why you cut ties with Arthur Pendragon after all that but I'll make you a proposal: you get back in touch with him—and I don't mean to use him for anything I mean you have unresolved stuff between you, but, you do that and I'll go back to school and finish up so I can actually do something when the time comes. Maybe I'll even meet your baby Pendragon while I'm there. I'll stop running and hiding. You talk to Arthur and then take a good look around you and see if maybe you might be ready to move on too, eventually. There's more than just us out there now, and maybe, just maybe we can do it together and fix what may Da couldn't.”

_**1 AFC, June** _

  
  


**BREAKING NEWS!**

A statement has been released revealing that late last night the Duke of Somerset and Minister of Public Safety, Uther Pendragon suffered a stroke in his Suffolk home.

Somerset, 54, is said to be in critical condition and a spokesperson for his family has requested privacy.

There is as of yet no word on the severity of the stroke or the prognosis for recovery.

News of Somerset's medical condition comes just after family difficulties were exposed by the Countess of Lefey filling for early independence from Somerset's guardianship. Lefey, 20, is a student of Queen's College at Knight's University and the suit just one year before her majority has called many to question....

The Duke of Somerset's Ward Sues for Early Independence

A shocking formal application for independence was filed today by the Countess of Lefey. Under the guardianship of Uther Pendragon, Duke of Somerset and Minister of Public Safety, for twelve years following the death of her father, Lefey has sued for independence just one year before all privileges and assets would have come to her naturally.

Suits for independence are rare among the peerage and most often come with allegations of abuse or financial misconduct. In a statement issued just hours ago Lefey makes no such outright claims but says, “I can no longer abide under Somerset's roof. I will not be linked to the atrocities he and his office commit against the citizens of Albion. I cannot condemn his policies strongly enough.”

A bold statement from the first peer to publicly distance themselves from the...

  
  


**Somerset said to still be unconscious after stroke**

Two days after the Duke of Somerset, 54, suffered a stroke in his Suffolk home, a spokesperson for the Pendragon family said he is still in critical condition and not yet conscious.

Somerset suffered the stroke just hours after news broke that his long time ward, the Countess of Lefey, had filled a formal suit for independence from his guardianship. Lefey has expressed her condolences to Somerset's family, but maintains her bold stance against his policies as Minister of Public Safety.

Studies indicate that stress, as well as negative emotions and shocks followed by sudden movements, can precede strokes. The domestic upheaval and scandal caused by Lefey's formal proceedings against Somerset and public remarks about her condemnation of his politics may have adversely affected his health.

The death of Somerset's wife, nearly twenty years ago, caused him to begin his campaign against those with Mental Defects...

  
  


**To Gwen from Merlin**

what's Arthur's #?!

  
  


**To Morgana from Merlin**

what's arthur's #?!

**To Arthur from Merlin**

I'm so sorry Arthur. let me know if there's anything I can do, including just sod off.

**To Arthur from Merlin**

but im here if you want to talk. im done being an ass.

**To Arthur from Merlin**

hope you are as ok as you can be and he recovers


End file.
